


Biology: A Summary

by ollive_oil



Series: Erisol: A Summary (Series) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anxiety, Biology Class, Comfort, Depression, Embarrassment, High School AU, Humanstuck, M/M, aka homie stasis, eridan anxiety ampora, homeostasis - Freeform, i project my own humiliation onto erisol, sollux i have a lisp captor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollive_oil/pseuds/ollive_oil
Summary: You really, really, really hate him, all five-foot-eleven-inches of him. Including that shitty purple streak. God, especially that shitty purple streak. Sometimes you wanna rip the damn thing off his head just so you won’t have to see it again.It could be the finals talking, but you also wanna kiss him so hard he sees stars. You peg this down as stress-induced libido and move on with life.





	Biology: A Summary

**Author's Note:**

> basically, i project my feelings heavily onto sollux captor to feel better about myself from ninth grade.

You’re failing Biology.

Well, that’s more hyperbole than full truth. You’ve got a high B, but the way you see it, you may as well be failing.

At the beginning of the year, you were the best in the class: always got extra credit on your papers, called on for most answers - no one was better than you, not that those tenth and eleventh graders even stood a chance. (They’re in a freshman class, for fuck sake.)

And then, miraculously, a month into the school year, this complete douchefuck of a kid walks into your sixth period, stupid thick glasses and shitty purple hair dye catching in the flourescent lighting. You’re disgusted, but then you smirk, because you know you’re about to fucking school this six-foot mess of pride and hormones. Nobody is better than you at biology, and he’s about to learn that.

The teacher announces the kid as “Eridan Ampora, please be kind as he’s just got out of the honor’s class.” This throws you off for all of two-point-five seconds because shit, this guy might actually be smarter than you - but then, you realize, he’s out of honor’s, so maybe you’ve got a chance.

Naturally, he’s shy, and probably embarrassed, and although you can't blame him you still take full advantage of this. However, by the end of the week your teacher has asked him some of the questions you know he would have asked you, and oh fuck he actually knows the answers. You allow yourself to panic for exactly two minutes, then regain your composure. You are not about to let some probably-not-even-British snob take your spot as best in the class, no sir, that seat belongs to Captor royalty only.

And, as the universe has proven time and time again, your reign is overthrown and the throne is taken by Ampora’s admittedly nice ass.

It’s during the second semester that you realize you actually have no fucking clue what you’re doing. Between therapy sessions every Monday, several class presentations and the mountain of other math homework you could give a fuck about, you have no time to even slightly understand the Bio homework you’ve got. By the end of the quarter, you’ve got a C, two angry dads, and spiraling mental health. Nothing could make this worse. Absolutely nothing.

Finals week approaches. You want to die.

Eridan’s attitude in and outside of class doesn’t help matters, either. He’s constantly staring at you from across the class, he gives you a light push out the door if you’re in front of him. (And maybe if you weren't so fucking touchstarved you might give yourself more of a chance to be angry about it.) You hate him, you think. You really, really, really hate him, all five-foot-eleven-inches of him. Including that shitty purple streak. God, especially that shitty purple streak. Sometimes you wanna rip the damn thing off his head just so you won’t have to see it again.

It could be the finals talking, but you also wanna kiss him so hard he sees stars. You peg this down as stress-induced libido and move on with life.

Exam season ends, and your sleeping schedule falls into a healthier rhythm. Biology starts up a new unit, and even though everyone started at the same point, you still have no fucking clue what’s going on.

Right now, you’re supposed to be devising an experiment that shows the effect of homeostasis on the body. You’re allowed up to four members in a group (the sophomores and juniors will flock to each other); you only need one.

The project is fairly easy, you understand the basics of homeostasis and how it works. It’s the experiment itself that gives you the Cthulu of all migraines, as you have no fucking idea what you’re going to do. Your brainstorming session is cut short, however, when your peripheral vision fills with a dark blue-and-grey-striped sweater. Fuck.

It’s not like you actually hate the guy, it’s just that you’ve had a long ass day and your head hurts, and the only thing his fashion sense tends to do is fuck with your eyes and after finals week you don’t ever want to see another Ibuprofen pill, thank you very much.

“What do you want?” you sigh without looking up. You are so not in the mood to deal with this douchebag for any longer than you must, and that level is currently at zero.

“Well,” he starts, and you pause to barely raise your eyes to him, “I was wonderin’ if we could, um, y'know…” He pauses and you raise an eyebrow. “Partner up? For the project.” He adds this last part quickly, as if you don’t know what he’s talking about. Before you can answer he huffs a laugh. “‘Cause ’ve got no clue as to what ‘m gonna do.”

You’re surprised, you think. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about asking for his help with something, but that’s just it- you asking him, not the other way around. This is a twist of events, a fucking miracle of life, you never thought you’d make it here and now he’ll never be able to let it down-

Oh, right. You forgot that you’re literally eye-level with Eridan’s crotch. (Not a bad view, but don't want him to think you're staring.)

"Sol?” He sounds scared. Great going, dumbfuck, you lost your chance. “Was- was that a yes, or… a no?”

You have to manually snap yourself out of the smug feeling. Oh god. He’s never getting out of this.

“Yeth- fuck, I mean, yeah. We can do that. Partner up. Great.” You mentally high-five yourself. _Nailed it_.

So over the course of the hour, you come up with what you like to call “The Best Fucking Eckthperiment Anybody Will Ever Thee.” And it really is, you think, even if Eridan wanted to burn his hand in water to make a point. Yours is way better. You’re bound to get an A, easy.

“Hell. Fucking. No.” He enunciates every word, no stopping short this time. “I am not runnin’ up the hall. It’s _raining_ , Sol.”

“Oh, come on, you’ll be fine. No one’th out there to thee you. No one’th going to laugh. Other than me, anyway.” You snicker a bit. “Bethidth, you'll be warm in that ridiculouthly large thweater. Jutht thtay under the overhangth.”

(You try hard not to think about how bad you just butchered that sentence, you really do. You fail.)

His only retort is to roll his eyes and stalk off to the outside world, muttering under his breath the whole way to the door.

He comes back dripping wet and panting, and now you really can’t hold your laughter back - what an idiot. He looks pissed though, so you hurry up and stop the timer.

\---

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit we’re gonna fuck it up this experiment fucking sucks oh god Sol what happens if we fail-”

The douchebag has, apparently, worse anxiety than you do. You gently pat his cheek - partly to stop the worrying, mostly because if he doesn’t shut the fuck up the two of you are gonna get points deducted from your  
grade. You can’t help but grin when he turns a nice shade of red, just about darker than his hair. (You also have to physically hold your hand back from touching him again because holy shit his skin so fucking soft.)

“You are fine.” You take the time to speak slow, quiet and what you hope is soothing - exactly how you'd want to be spoken to like this. “We are going to be fine.” You can’t help but add, “The project is A, maybe high B, material. No matter what, you will be be fine.” You're kind of talking to yourself, as well, because the bees are already buzzing in that unpleasant way you hate.

“Yeah,” he manages, taking decently-timed breaths. “Yeah. We’ll be good.”

“Who’s next..? Ah, Eridan and Sollux, are you ready to present?”

You hear Eri murmur a soft “No”, and you take about zero-point-two seconds to think, Wow, mood?, but still, the bees move faster as they buzz around in your stomach. They are not going to make this easier.

The two of you make your way to the front of the room, and staring out at the small crowd makes you queasy and you want to shrivel up and hide in a hole, oh god, they’re staring holy shit-

“S-so our experiment didn’t exactly work as planned, but we still have our results…” Thank any and every deity out there that Eridan starts talking because there's no way in hell you're speaking up. You can tell he’s still anxious, as his face is bright red and his pupils are wide and he’s shaking slightly, but he’s actually taking one for the team. You continue to stand lamely, gripping onto your journal for dear life, until the teacher deems your project worthy of a grade.

“Your project was lacking, and your results weren’t in the fashion I would prefer.” You see Eridan’s hands clench in time with your stomach. “But you did get up here and present, so a three out of five. Go back to your seats, next group.”

You return to your seats adjacent to each other, and you put your head on the desk, trying to cool down. Your breathing is still coming fast and the bees are buzzing harder now, but you have a grade. You have a grade  
and it’s not good but it's not bad and you might not fail. All of a sudden, you feel a weight on your head and it’s soft and warm and holy fuck Eridan has his hand in your hair.

Keeping your head where it is because no fucking way are you giving up this precious moment, a blessing from the gods themselves, you slowly open your eyes to look at him.

He gives you a smile, still shaky but reassuring as the bees slowly file out of their hive. “Feelin’ better?” he murmurs (you really can’t afford any more points off your grade). You shrug and lay your head back down, his hand not moving but grounding, and you feel the last of the bees leave as the nausea dissipates.

It's nice, you think, this friendship you’ve got going; definitely different than the other friends you have, which are usually snarky and ironic (no you are not thinking about a certain Strider when you say that, no-sir-ee). Though rivalry-based and often biting, you can tell Eridan is just as fucking lonely as you are, if his lack of friends and social skills is anything to go by - not that yours are any better, but at least you know how to talk to people other than your brother.

You keep your head on the desk for the remainder of the period, thankful for Eridan and his tall stature blocking you from the teacher’s view. When the bell rings, you jump a bit, and Eridan huffs a laugh.

“Tired?” he asks, blushing lightly. You nod, your head feeling fuzzy and thick. He hands you your glasses and the two of you leave the room, heading in the direction of the school buses and Eridan’s brother’s car. There's a slight drizzle coming down, just enough that it's obvious you'll be walking in a downpour on your way home. Great.

“Wanna come over?” He says it quick, and you know he had to think hard about asking because his anxiety is way too high for him to have made the decision on a whim. “Cro won't mind, I don't think, and I know your dads get home late, an’ I don’t want ya havin’ to walk home in the rain, I’d feel awful.” He’s fiddling with the ends of his lavender scarf and staring at the ground, a sign that he’s expecting you to decline. And god, as much it’s tempting to fuck with him, you know this isn't the time, not after what just happened in there. And he's right: with as tired as you are, you really don't want to walk in the rain.

“Yeah, thure,” you slur, your brain still muddy from sleep deprivation. “Not like I have another option.” You briefly consider saying something about his house - you know he’s better off than you, it's just a fact - but even though your addled brain finds it tempting, you know that he's sensitive about it, and any joke you would otherwise make would definitely not go over well.

Eridan smiles brightly, cheeks still pink, fingers still entangled in his scarf. “Really?”

And he looks so fucking hopeful that your heart clenches because fuck, he's so pretty when he smiles like that, all blushy and cute and fuck, you wanna kiss him. Instead you nod in the affirmative to avoid embarrassing yourself with words, and punch his shoulder lightly. “Yeah dude, of courthe.”

His grin could rival the sun, you think. Maybe this will be your chance to finally ask him out, at least after a short nap. You can't help but hope for cuddles at his house, though the smarter half of your brain knows better. Still, there's no time like the present for things to change, or something like that.

After the two of you clamber into the backseat of Cronus’ car, Eridan takes your head and gently lies it onto his own shoulder. His other arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly. You can feel the heat coming off his face, and he quietly asks if this is okay. You nod, appreciating the warmth and the pressure and everything about this.

You let your eyes close and fall asleep halfway, just enough that you'll get some rest. As the two of you rest on each other, you finally let yourself relax.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments i love validation.
> 
> follow me on tungle dot hell killer-kiing
> 
> edit 3/29/18: i fixed the paragraph formatting because its been bothering me since i posted this.


End file.
